#Miguel O’Hara X Female reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions, and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.”

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms.

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3.

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms.

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected.

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care.

It also wore off in 24 hours.

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans.

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach.

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised.

The other two were different, they had… other urges.

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data.

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.”

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much.

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long.

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.”

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?”

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased.

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.”

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost.

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?”

He nodded and held his arm out to you.

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen.

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him.

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped.

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him.

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms.

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid.

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins.

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip.

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this-

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red.

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him.

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible.

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time.

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut.

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound.

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense.

Almost.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this.

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name.

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect.

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch.

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret.

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up.

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once.

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum.

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'.

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth.

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist.

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh.

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this.

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating.

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release.

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off.

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release.

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating.

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest.

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side.

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough.

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second.

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative.

It shouldn't take long.

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes.

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run.

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work.

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others.

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful.

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back.

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine.

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick.

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level.

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful.

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core.

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check.

It doesn’t last long.

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in.

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on.

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts.

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got.

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words.

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper.

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going.

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust.

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end.

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change.

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory.

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down.

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure.

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade.

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before.

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless.

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans.

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal.

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears.

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength.

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips.

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength.

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements.

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze.

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either.

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside.

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully.

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control.

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat.

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly.

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip.

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him.

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you.

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him.

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in.

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight, his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin.

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release.

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily.

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat.

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter.

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin.

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly.

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm.

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves.

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-”

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs.

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation.

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you.

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw.

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.”

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time.

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated.

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down.

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?”

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now.

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin.

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath.

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently.

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Happy to help.”

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused.

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.”

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong.

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation.

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul.

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered.

You frown and shake your head, confused.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

2K notes · View notes

miguelswifey04 · 9 months

Text

miguel o’hara x fem! reader

cw: lactation kink (breastfeeding), reader! breastfeeds miguel, breast-sucking, nsfw 18+, smut; no plot

a/n: this was requested so, if you don’t like this js skip or block me :3

as you removed your apron, revealing your beautiful curves and plump breasts, miguel’s breath caught in his throat. the sight of you was undeniably alluring, and desire welled up within him. he couldn't resist the pull any longer, his hands gliding over your bare skin as he pulled you closer. his lips found their way to the sensitive skin of your neck, peppering it with soft kisses.

“you’re irresistible," he whispered huskily, his voice filled with desire. "every curve, every part of you... drives me wild." his hands traced teasing patterns along your waist, caressing the softness of your skin. "you are the most enticing sight in this kitchen, my love." miguel chuckled softly against your skin, his touch growing bolder as he let his hands roam over your body. his voice was laced with a playful yet seductive tone. “you’re always so kinky,” you giggled as you leaned into his hungry touches.

“oh, you have no idea how kinky i can be. i’m just waiting for the right moment to show you." he moved one hand up to cup your breast, teasingly running his thumb over the hardened nipple. his lips resumed their exploration along your neck, his touch becoming more urgent with each passing moment. miguel’s movements were swift and confident as he carried you effortlessly to the bed. a hunger burned within him as he lowered your top, exposing your breasts and the sweet milk that awaited him.

his lips found their way to your exposed flesh, his mouth latching onto your nipple. he suckled gently, savoring the taste of your milk, his tongue lapping and swirling around it. a deep moan rumbled from his throat as he enjoyed the intimate connection between you, the mixture of pleasure and nourishment filling his senses. he nursed eagerly, his touch and suckling becoming more intense, his desire to please you growing with every passing second.

“oh god," he murmured with urgency, his voice muffled against your breast. "you taste so delicious. i can't get enough of you." you squirmed under his hold as he continued to suckled on your breasts. you could feel the tug from his lips as he slurped up your sweet milk and with the flick of tongue, lapped up the milk that threatened to spill from your breasts. “oh—miguel, that feels so fucking good..” your breath hitches and your body shudders as he continues his assault on your breasts.

miguel’s desire intensified as he heard your moans of pleasure and felt your squirming beneath his touch. it fueled his own arousal, his passion for you growing with every passing moment. his free hand roamed across your body, teasing and caressing your curves, heightening your pleasure. his lips trailed a path of kisses and nibbles from your breasts to your neck, his warm breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

he released your breast with a gentle pop, his lips and chin glistening with traces of milk. he gazed into your eyes, his own filled with a mix of longing and adoration. “you are exquisite, mi reina," he whispered, his voice laced with desire. "and i want to show you just how much you mean to me."

a/n: shiver me timbers omg i can’t believe i wrote this omg 😏

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @astro1bloom @sabcandoit @obi-mom-kenobi @emiemiemiii @meeom

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #lin’s asks #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #lactating kink #breastfeeding #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #atsv smut #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara drabble

2K notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 10 months

Text

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes.

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York.

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly.

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?”

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order.

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you.

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you.

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output.

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years.

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming.

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor.

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom.

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on.

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room.

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer.

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space.

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him.

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips?

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail.

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks.

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.”

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis.

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks.

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins.

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box.

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm.

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you.

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom.

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies.

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp.

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel.

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body.

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast.

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls.

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.”

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded.

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

#miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #alternate universe #no use of y/n

2K notes · View notes

saturncodedstarlette · 5 months

Text

Miguel, tightly embracing Y/N to his chest :

Miguel, grumbled into their hair : I had a nightmare that you left me…

Y/N, is clearly suffocated but didn’t move :

Y/N, leans up to pepper his face with kisses, then lay back on his chest : That’s ridiculous. You know I have no sense of direction.

#Spiderverse #Spiderverse x reader #spiderverse incorrect quotes #spider man : across the spiderverse #Atsv #Atsv x reader #atsv incorrect quotes #Miguel o’hara #Miguel o’hara x reader #Miguel o’hara x you #Miguel o’hara x female reader #Miguel o’hara x male reader #Miguel o’hara x gn reader #Miguel o’hara x y/n #Original : senpiecakes #Original : Tumblr

483 notes · View notes

jedijesi · 6 months

Text

Phantom of the Spider Society

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Main Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, PiV, breeding kink, mask kink, size kink, choking, multiple orgasms, possessiveness, overstimulation

Word Count: 4k

Summary: You and Miguel celebrate Halloween with the Parkers dressed as The Phantom of the Opera and Christine, but seeing how incredible you are with Mayday, makes him realize he wants a family with you.

A/N: This is dedicated to @stclairesplace! All credit for the art goes to Marbipa on twitter! Happy Halloween!

The last time Miguel celebrated Halloween was with Gabriella, and before that, it was during his childhood. As he shared this with you, you couldn't hide your shock and disbelief. Halloween was, without a doubt, one of your favorite times of the year. The thought of not fully embracing the magic and fun of the season was almost inconceivable to you.

After months of pleading and coaxing your grumpy fiance, he finally agreed to join you in celebrating Halloween together in a couple’s costume. The excitement and anticipation in your heart were hard to contain, immediately meeting with LYLA to create your costumes.

"We've got to go, Mig!" you shouted from the living room, the excitement in your voice evident. "Peter B said Trick o' Treaters are gonna show up around now!"

"I feel ridiculous," Miguel grunted from behind the closed door.

"Just open the door and let me see," you urged with a playful tone.

The door creaked open, revealing the tall, muscular man who had reluctantly agreed to dress up for Halloween. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes studied the way his muscles were prominent in the tight button-up shirt and vest. The white mask, covering half of his face, added a sexy air of mystery to his ensemble. Miguel might have felt ridiculous, but you couldn't help but feel a rush of desire as you took in his costume.

“Phantom of the Opera? Really?” He teased.

You closed the gap, allowing your fingers to come up and dance across his chest. “Mmhmm.” You hummed, distracted by how hot he looked.

As Miguel stood there, his mind wandered away from his costume, and instead, he found himself studying your form. The way your breasts looked, pushed up by the corset you wore, left him in awe. "Mí Hermosa," Miguel whispered, his gloved hand tenderly cupping your cheek. "You're breathtaking," he murmured, his voice like a sweet melody in your ears.

Miguel slowly bent down, his lips seeking yours in a long and passionate kiss. His tongue gently nudged your lip, silently begging for entrance, and you willingly accepted, your mouths entwined in desire. The kiss quickly escalated, growing heated as your tongues explored each other with a hunger that couldn't be denied. The moan that escaped your lips blended with Miguel's. You could feel his cock grow hard in his pants against you, making you even more wet.

Reluctantly, you broke the kiss, though Miguel's lips continued to protest, capturing stolen kisses as you tried to regain your breath. "Miguel," you whined, your body quivering under his touch as he left hickies on your neck. "We can't," you moaned.

With all of his might, Miguel slowly backs away. “We should cancel.” He says breathlessly.

While canceling to fuck Miguel all night long sounded incredible, you shook your head no. “It’s Mayday’s first Halloween- it's our first Halloween. We gotta go.” Your frown matches Miguel’s.

“Fine.” He sighs, giving a tug to his trousers to relieve the pressure his hard-on was giving him. As you turn to grab the red rose to put in your hair, Miguel smacks your ass, unable to control himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Queen, New York

Mayday's high-pitched screams filled the air as the hexagonal portal crackled to life in the hallway of the house.

"Hey!" Peter B shouted from the kitchen, his voice full of enthusiasm. "I'm glad you two could make it!"

As you and Miguel emerged from the portal, Peter B greeted you with open arms, his superhuman strength making the hug. He swept you up into an embrace, the excitement of the moment evident in his cheerful demeanor.

"Hi, Peter!" you giggled as you dangled in the air.

"Oooo! Phantom of the Opera?" MJ asked as she greeted you, her eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Mmhmm!" You nodded with a mischievous smile. "Specifically, The Point of No Return scene." You gestured to your costume, complete with dramatic makeup and Miguel’s mask.

Miguel couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he took in the Parker’s costumes. "And what the fu- heck are you two supposed to be?" he asked, a reminder that there was a little girl at his feet.

Peter proudly lifted Mayday, showing her off. “Chucky!” Her wild red hair styled matched the murderous doll's.

MJ joined in, her voice playful. "So were her murder victims." She gestured to the plastic knives attached to their outfits, and fake blood dripping down their clothes.

Miguel slowly nodded, a mixture of amusement and unease in his expression. "That's a little creepy," he admitted, his eyes darting between the costumed trio.

DING DONG

Miguel smiled as he watched your face light up in the corner of his eye. “Trick or treaters!” You cheered.

For the rest of the night, you and Miguel took on the role of generous candy distributors, welcoming dozens upon dozens of excited children to the house as Peter and MJ took Mayday trick or treating. Your eyes sparkled with delight every time you spotted someone in costumes that resembled either yours or Miguel’s suits. You couldn't resist sneaking extra candy into their buckets, making Miguel chuckle each time. Miguel's heart swelled with affection as he watched you interact with the children, your playful nature and quick wit making them laugh and filling their faces with the most enormous smiles. He was captivated by your ability to connect with the young ones, and he couldn't help but imagine how incredible of a mother you would be one day.

As the night wore on, Peter B and MJ came home to make dinner. While they had their hands full, you hoped on Mayday duty. Miguel found himself admiring you even more. You had a natural way with Mayday as she would babble to you about nothing which you happily responded to converse together.

“Oh, I hear that!” You nodded your head in agreement as Mayday made angry noises.

“I agree! Your mom and dad are very selfish for eating your candy.” She continues to make random noises.

“Well to play devil’s advocate, I have heard a few rumors that you’ve been biting mom’s nipples.” You say giving her a playful scolding. “Maybe she deserves a fun-sized Snickers or two.”

Mayday screams before continuing her rant. “Hey, don’t get mad at me, I’m on your side, girlfriend!”

Amid the absurd conversation and playful banter, Miguel watched you from the other side of the room, his attention seemingly focused on Peter B's storytelling. But in reality, he was captivated by the way you effortlessly engaged with Mayday's imaginative nonsense.

He couldn't help but smile as he observed you, your eyes filled with amusement and affection as you encouraged and entertained the baby. It was a simple yet heartwarming sight that warmed his heart.

At one point, you found yourself dancing in the living room, holding a peacefully sleeping Mayday in your arms. Miguel couldn't resist the tender moment and walked up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. The two of you swayed together in this intimate moment, the love and warmth enveloping you like a cozy embrace.

To intensify the tenderness and affection in this moment, let's add more detail and emotion:

"I love you," Miguel whispered, his voice a gentle caress, as he held you in his arms, careful not to wake the peacefully sleeping baby.

You leaned your head further back, your ear pressed against his chest, allowing you to hear the rhythmic beating of his heart. "I love you, mi amor," you softly replied, your voice filled with warmth and love.

Carefully, you turned in his embrace, making eye contact with his handsome, half-masked face. A soft smile formed on Miguel's lips as he leaned down, his eyes filled with tenderness, and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. The world seemed to fade away in that moment, leaving only the two of you.

“Hey- oh sorry!” Peter covers his eyes as he interrupts your kiss.

“Yes?” Miguel says with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I was just gonna put Mayday down for the night while MJ stuffs her face with the leftover candy.” He says as he carefully takes the baby from your arms. “Thank you two again for helping out. Maybe we can do this again next time.”

“Of course, Pete.” You smile before putting the coordinate in your watch to go back home. “We should get going anyways.”

As the portal opened beside you, you walked up to Peter, affectionately kissing his cheek, and then Mayday's, who was still peacefully sleeping in his arms. Miguel gave Peter a nod of goodbye, a silent expression of gratitude for the memorable Halloween.

Before you and Miguel stepped into the portal, Peter spoke up with a mischievous grin. "Maybe next year, you guys will have a friend for Mayday to play with."

Peter’s playful comment caused a sudden rise of heat in your and Miguel's faces, the idea of expanding your family together making your hearts beat a little faster. With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you and Miguel stepped through the portal, leaving Peter and Mayday behind, his chuckle following you as you through.

As the two of you emerged from the portal, returning to the familiar living room of your penthouse, you couldn't help but turn around and jump on your tiptoes to reach Miguel's cheek. With a swift and gentle motion, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, catching the Spider-Man by surprise.

"Thank you for tonight," you whispered, your voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

As you turned to walk toward the bedroom, Miguel's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, causing you to twirl around to face him. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, his lips were on yours in a fiery and passionate kiss. The unexpected surge of desire and longing between you and Miguel ignited in that moment, the pent-up emotions from the night and the intensity of his desire, emitted through his lips.

"I wanna have a family with you," Miguel whispered against your lips, his voice filled with heartfelt longing.

You broke the kiss, your eyes filled with surprise and delight. "R-really?" you stammered, your heart pounding with emotion.

Miguel nodded, his smile growing wider with each passing moment. "Yes, mi amor. I love you more than anything. Seeing you with Mayday made me realize, I can’t wait any longer." His gaze was filled with love and hope. "What do you say?"

Your response was immediate, and your voice was filled with elation. "Yes!" you cheered, unable to contain your excitement. "I want it; I wanna have a family with you."

Miguel reciprocated your gleaming smile, his eyes shining with happiness and love. Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms, holding you close as you’re lips molded together. Your legs wrapped around Miguel’s hips, trying to get as close as possible as he walked to of you to the bedroom.

As Miguel’s knees feel the bed in front of him, he slowly leans forward, to lay you on the bed. “Mine.” He moans as his lips move down to your neck.

Your moans cause Miguel’s cock to grow harder. Needing relief, he ruts against your clothed pussy. The sensation of him against your clit makes you gasp.

“Fuck, Mig!” You moan, bucking your hips for more.

“Patience.” He growls, biting and sucking your neck as his hands work to unlace the corset.

Miguel’s lips move to the top of your breasts, nipping at the soft skin. As he grows frustrated with the string of the corset, he gunts before saying, “I’m sorry, Hermosa. It was a beautiful costume.” You quirk your brow in confusion until sudden and loud tears fill the room as Miguel tears the corset and dress in half in one go before your panties.

You gasp in shock, only for it to become a moan as lips make quick work of your nipples. His mouth and tongue focus on one while his hand pinches and flicks the other before trading.

“Baby,” You whine.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I need more.” You beg.

Miguel looks up at you as he sucks on your nipple. “Yeah? What do you need?”

“I need you to play with me.”

“I am.” He replies with a devious smirk.

“Fuck, baby, I need you to fuck me!”

Miguel shakes his head, bringing his lips back up to yours. “You're not ready for me, yet, pretty girl.”

You whimper as Miguel continues to rut into your core. Your hands move up to unbutton the tight vest and shirt as he passionately kisses your lips. Once his muscular chest and abs are exposed, your hands move south, tracing his v-line.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Miguel smirks into the kiss as your fingers attempt to unbutton his trousers. “These…” He takes your wrists into his hands. “Stay here.” He demands as he places them above your head.

As Miguel moves to take the mask off, you stop him. “Wait!” He cocks his head to the side in confusion. “C-can you keep it on?” You ask timidly.

Miguel smirks as he places it back over the side of his face. “You want me to fuck you in the mask?” He hums, causing your walls to flutter with excitement,

“Ye-yes, please.”

“Alright then, Chiquita,” Miguel whispers pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Agonizingly slow, Miguel kisses down your naked body once again. “Fuck, Miguel.” You whine again as he massages your thighs.

He grins as become level with your soaked pussy. “Look at you, baby girl, you’re dripping for me!” Miguel groans as he licks his lips.

“Please,” You whimper, feeling his warm breath on your sensitive clit.

“Please, what?” Miguel innocently teases. “I can’t do anything until you tell me exactly what you want.”

“Please play with my clit! Make me cum all over your face and fingers! I need it!” You whine.

“Good girl,” Miguel growls before diving into your wet cunt, lapping up every drop of your arousal. “Fuck!” He moans into you as you squirm beneath him. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your legs shook with pleasure on Miguel’s shoulders. He ate you out like you were his last meal. “Ah, oh, fuck! Just like that!” You screamed as your hands gripped the bed sheets.

“Yeah?” Miguel moans into your clit, the vibrations adding to the stimulation. “You want my fingers, baby?” He asks as he teasingly guides a finger up and down the entrance of your pussy.

“Yes!” You beg. “Please, Miguel, plea- ah!” Miguel cuts you off, shoving his thick middle and ring finger into your soaking pussy.

Having memorized every inch of your body, he curls his fingers to play with your G-spot. He doesn't need to ask if he found it as your intensified moans and the way you arch your back into him, are enough to know he’s making you feel incredible.

“Come on, baby girl. I know you're getting close.” He says as his tongue flicks your clit. “I can feel your pretty pussy getting so tight for me.”

“Oh! Oh, fuck, Miguel! I’m so- so close, baby! Don’t stop.” You pleaded, feeling your orgasm nearing even closer.

“You can do it. Cum all over my fingers.” Miguel demands. “I need it. I need to taste you. I need to feel you cum around for me.”

Miguel’s words of encouragement are enough to break you, sending pleasure coursing through your body. Your moans echo through the penthouse, loud enough for any passing Spider-Person to hear how good Miguel is making you feel.

“Good girl.” Miguel coos as you calm down from your high. “So good for me.” He crawls back up your body to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“I love you.” You moan into his lips.

“I love you.” He replies before flipping you over onto your stomach. You let out a gasp in surprise as Miguel manhandles you. With your face in the bed and ass in the air, you feel his hands run along your skin, massaging and worshiping your body. “You’re so fucking perfect.” His voice was deep with lust. “Are you ready to take me, Hermosa?”

A shiver runs down your spine as you hear Miguel take his pants off and feel the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “Yes, baby, I need you to fill me up.”

“Good girl.” He groans as he pushes the head in.

It was hard to get used to Miguel’s size. His thick cock made you feel like a virgin each time he fucked you. He always took his time at the beginning, knowing you needed help taking all of him. After giving you a minute to adjust to his size, Miguel begins to slowly pump in and out. His head fell back in pleasure. He loved how tight and wet you are for him. Your moans, your body, your pussy, it was all so addictive.

“Fuck, baby,” Miguel moaned as he began to pick up pace. “You're so fucking tight!”

As much as you wanted to reply, you couldn’t, all you could do was drool and moan into the duve of your shared bed. His cock was deep inside of you, abusing your G-spot. Miguel had never fucked you like this before. It was different, it was passionate and desperate, and he had a mission.

“Baby,” Your voice was muffled as you were being fucked into the bed. “I- I’m so close.” You cried.

“You better fucking come for me.” Miguel reached down, wrapping his hand around your throat to keep your face out of the bed. “I wanna hear you scream my name, understand?”

“Y-yes!” You screamed as Miguel’s free hand moved from your ass to your swollen and sensitive clit. “Fuck!” You cried. “I’m cumming, Mig- Oh, fuck! I’m cumming, Miguel!”

Your pussy throbbed around Miguel’s cock, but he didn't stop. Suddenly, Miguel pulled out and flipped you onto your back. “Come here, baby girl.” He growled as he picked you up and moved to the wall-length window of the room. The city skyline illuminated your faces as Miguel slowly lowered you onto his cock.

The new angle caused you to let out a deep moan. “Oh- Ah! Miguel!” You screamed as Miguel suddenly went back to relentlessly fucking your sensitive pussy.

Miguel bit his lip as he watched you moan for him and felt your cum dripping down his cock. “That’s it, baby.” He moaned. “I need you to cum for me again, okay.”

Your limbs shook and twitched with the overwhelming amount of pleasure surging through your body. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long.” You whined.

“I know, I know,” Miguel huffed. “Hang in there a little longer, your gonna feel so fucking good.”

Miguel could feel himself becoming all the more relentless as you started kissing his neck, his weak spot. The feeling of your tongue and lips working to mark him made his cock twitch. You felt it, you felt how much you turned him on.

“I need to cum.” You whimper against his neck.

“Cum.” He demands.

That's all it took for you to unravel on his cock once again. Miguel tried to hold off as best she could, but it was more difficult than he thought. He bit his lip, trying not to cum as your pussy throbbed and your moans sang his name.

As you came down from your high, Miguel walked back to the bed. He carefully lays you on your back with his cock hard inside you. He took your legs and laid them on his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

Miguel smirks down at you, feeling your pussy clench around him. “You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you, baby girl?” Miguel purrs as he slowly rolls his hips, the head of his cock, brushing against your G-spot.

“Mmhmm.” Your eyes roll back in your head.

As Miguel slowly pumps in and out he says, “This time, I’m gonna fill you up with all of my cum. I’m gonna put a baby in you, Hermosa. Can you take my cum, pretty thing?”

Miguel’s voice was laced with lust, you couldn’t help but buck back into him. You may have cum three times already, but you needed it again. “Give me your cum.” Your eyes, heavy with lust look into his.

Before you knew it, Miguel was pounding on you. He loved watching your breasts bounce as he fucked you against his cock. “Oh fuck.” He moaned. “I need you so badly. I’m gonna cum so much.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it!” Your pleas made Miguel’s cock twitch, cum leaking out as he struggled to keep his load, his cock aching with cum.

“Shit! I- I need to cum, mí vida!” Miguel fell forward, trying to fuck you as deep as possible. With your knees now on his shoulder, you screamed. The new angle was even deeper than the others, exploring parts of you that were his. “Mine.” He growled in your ear, causing your walls to tighten even more.

“Ungh! Mi-Mig, I can’t hold it- ah! Fuck, I need to cum!” Tears from pleasure and overstimulation began to run down your cheek.

“Fuck! Cum with me, mí vida!” Miguel grunts. “I’m gonna fill you up.”

You cum around his cock, screaming Miguel’s name. Your powerful orgasm triggers Miguel’s. With animalistic grunts, cums, filling your pussy full of his warm cum. He slowly fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging the pleasure and making sure every drop was inside of you.

The two of you remained entwined in each other for a while, your breaths still heavy and labored from the intensity of your lovemaking. You pressed lazy kisses to each other's damp skin, savoring the taste and feel of each other. Whispers of sweet nothings were exchanged in between the tender kisses, the words flowing effortlessly from your lips as an expression of the overwhelming emotions you two felt in the moment. The sentiment was shared every few seconds, a constant affirmation of the boundless love that could hardly be contained within the walls of your shared space.

After a few perfect moments like this, Miguel slowly and carefully pulls out before taking off the mask and lying beside you. Miguel wrapped you in his strong arms, holding you close and secure, allowing you to rest your head against his chest. As you lay there, you listened to the beautiful rhythm of his beating heart, each steady thud like a soothing melody that resonated through your entire being.

In the warmth and safety of his embrace, you felt a profound sense of peace and belonging. "We gotta start thinking of some family costumes for next Halloween," Miguel whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that broke the comfortable silence between you.

You let out a giggle at his words, the idea of family costumes filling you with excitement. "Yeah?" you responded, your voice filled with playful curiosity.

Miguel nodded, his eyes shining with affection and a touch of mischief, even as exhaustion threatened to overtake him. "The O'Hara's costumes need to beat the Parkers," he said with a smirk.

You couldn't help but smile at his playfulness. Looking up into his eyes, you whispered, "I love you, Miguel."

Miguel leaned in, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. "I love you, mi vida.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! This was inspired by my bestie @stclairesplace ilysm! ur my muse!

#jedi jesi #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #stclairesplace #miguel ohara x female reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara kinktober #kinktober #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x female reader

327 notes · View notes

g0d334t3r · 5 months

Text

i don’t know how long this escape will last . . . MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (18+), implied smut towards the very end.

“YOU DON’T TRUST ME.”

the words were flat—a statement born out of misplaced anger and insecurity because, by all means, MIGUEL was right not to trust you. the identity you’ve built for yourself since your home universe collapsed—the lucrecia vaughn that miguel supposedly knew—was a lie, and yet, he has done everything and anything for you. and still—you couldn’t even begin to fathom not having his trust even when you knew you didn’t deserve it.

“lucrecia,” the man says patiently, his gaze a muted red.

his voice—low, thick, and gruff—is a web in and of itself, you realize with a startled look; there was nowhere else you’d prefer to be.

“that was not what i was trying to say.”

your jaw ticks. “then what were you trying to say?” your voice is mean, just as you’ve conditioned it to be in your girlhood—leaving no room for arguments, just as your mother taught you.

in truth, you’re hurting—but probably not as much as miguel would once he finds out how you’d gotten into the society in the first place—your heart bursting at the seams.

you rise to your full height, which you’ve long since known was incomparable to his, furrowing your brows and narrowing your eyes. the stamina he’d been helping you build up has paid off in that moment, keeping your breathing even and your chest calm even as it flickered to life in the wake of your anger.

“that i’m not good enough to carry out this case?” you continue through your teeth, your fists clenched at your sides. “that i’ve failed once and will only fail again?” your voice breaks off into a desperate snarl that rises in volume.

“just tell me, miguel, putangina lang—”

“lu.”

miguel had raised his hand in front of you placatingly like you were a feral animal to quell.

(the irony here did not escape your notice.)

“por favor,” he continues gently, carefully stepping towards you. “let me speak. let me help you understand.”

your chest heaved as you both stared wordlessly. up, down. up, down. inhale, exhale.

“tell me,” you repeated, finally faltering, surrendering—though a heat remained simmering below your skin.

and you and he don’t touch exactly, but the feeling was how you thought it would feel—if you and he stood so close you somehow ran out of air to breathe just like that—because miguel’s presence was big enough for the both of you.

he stands tall, if slouching a bit, looking every bit of the leader you hear he is. two whole heads taller than you, as you already knew. but it doesn’t make it any less of a marvel to witness it for yourself—to feel each breath of his life against your face when, for as long as you’ve had your powers, you’ve always been cause for someone’s last breath.

“your first run with the anomaly.”

you sucked your teeth at the grit in his voice. “what about it?”

he shot you a disapproving look. “it almost killed you—despite your preparedness.” he says immediately to the knit in your brows and the insecurity in your eyes, probably knowing that a self-deprecating spiel came next and more venomous words that could last the both of you another lifetime. “and that wasn’t your fault. you did everything right.”

“did i?” your jaw ticked again. “the anomaly escaped.”

“i don’t care.”

“yes, you do!”

his jaw sets this time as you let yours slacken to counter his words.

“capturing anomalies is your vice.” you hissed, glaring up at him, huffing into your shared air. “and i saw how you reacted when i made my report. i saw how you held yourself, the tightness in your eyes; you’ve always bred anger, miguel. did you know?”

“you’re not going after that anomaly.” his tone promised finality. “not with that mindset, not while distracted, not while i say so, lucrecia.”

“then help me!” you heaved. “help me be better or get out of my way.”

your nostrils flared as his hands shot up between the two of you to grip your wrists, and he leaned in, puffing out an angry breath against your neck.

“you,” he growls softly, walking them towards a wall, “are not going after that anomaly. ¿estoy entendido?”

you grunted as your back hit the metallic wall and then again at the resistance on your wrists.

“chica testaruda.” he breathed into your skin. stubborn girl, you knew his words translated, and it only infuriated you further—fanning the flames that had only smoldered in its supposed slumber.

remembering what he taught you during the early months of your arrival, you use the wall behind you as leverage to push—getting enough space to support your stance while miguel stumbles before dragging him down onto the floor and pinning him with your weight.

“you’ve always bred anger.” you murmured, digging your nails into his wrists as you held them down. “i know you hate me—”

“you know nothing, mija.” his chest rumbled, and his eyes glowed red. “i’m not benching you because i secretly think you’re incompetent, lucrecia.”

you sneered, mistakenly losing sight of his hands in your anger. “sinungaling.”

miguel flips the two of you over that next second, pinning you down more efficiently than you did him, laying his torso across your stomach and gathering your hands above your head.

“tell me i’m not the only one who noticed.” his chest rumbled again as he spoke, weaving the web you’d found herself in ever tighter. “tell me i’m not the only one who felt it.”

“felt what?” you huffed.

“don’t.” he takes one hand off your wrists to stroke your cheek, furrowing his brows in concentration as a knuckle grazes your skin. “don’t deflect, mija. don’t deny.”

“i don’t understand,” you stuttered out.

“but you do,” miguel murmurs, maneuvering your hands to either side of your head and pulling his weight away from your stomach, extracting a quiet gasp of relief from your lips. “i know you do, little psychologist. after all, you know how quick i am to anger. so you must know…”

“anyone can see how quick you are to anger,” you countered breathlessly.

“but you know my less obvious tells.” he shot you a look akin to fondness. “and i’m sure i can be as good a psychologist as you are, lucrecia. because i know what makes you tick and how you lie.”

your lips part.

miguel leans forward, easing his hold on your wrists, though not letting go just yet. “¿quieres que te bese, amor?”

“only if you’ll mean it.” you murmured over the rumbling of his chest. “and only then—dahil gusto kong maramdaman ang pagmamahal mo, at gusto kong maramdaman mo ang pagmamahal ko.”

his lips grazed your forehead first, tenderly kissing the knit between your brows until they’d relaxed. and when they have, when you craved more, miguel would chuckle lowly and draw away.

“you’re all i want, lucrecia.” his voice was thick, almost needy, when he spoke again, his mouth near your ear. “did you know? do you believe me?”

he dropped your hands and brought his ones around your waist, his thumb stroking the end of a scar that peeked out from the loose baby blue camisole.

“you know nothing,” miguel mumbled, though almost as if he was talking to himself.

“miguel.” you say, your cheeks set aflame. “please.”

his gaze flickered back to you. “tell me what you want, lu.”

“kiss me.”

and he does. he kisses like a man starved, groaning and hissing into your mouth as it parts for him, molding it into his image, the web that you have long since given yourself up to. and then he picks at your scar with his nail even as you writhe and hiss back, digging new groves in return to match yours.

you learn then—when his hand cups your mound, palming you through your worn grey sweats, his thumb circling your clothed clit in tight circles—another side of him that you’ve yet to notice through your sterile eyes: that miguel o’hara is a lover.

𓌳𓌳𓌳𓌳 translations:

putaninga lang - tagalog, an expression for anger.

¿estoy entendido? - spanish, “do you understand?”

sinungaling - tagalog, “liar.”

¿quieres que te bese, amor? - spanish, “do you want me to kiss you, love?”

dahil gusto kong maramdaman ang pagmamahal mo, at gusto kong maramdaman mo ang pagmamahal ko. - tagalog, “because i want to feel your love and for you to feel [mine].”

#[✎]#talia writes ✎#[ꕥ]#wip: brainrot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #filipino reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara

17 notes · View notes

blackleatherjacketz · 2 years

Text

Oscar Isaac Character Masterlist

Moon Knight

Steven Grant x Reader

Not Mine

Marks On My Collarbone

Jake Lockley x Female Reader

Call A Cab

The Moon Boys (Steven, Marc, Jake) x Female Reader

Torn

Show Me

Marc Spector x Female Reader

Battle Born

Jake Lockley x Original Female Character

Head Start

Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse

Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader

Mouthy

Nocturne

Slick

Triple Frontier

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Female Reader

Favorite

Star Wars

Poe Dameron x Female Reader

Ice Queen

Sucker Punch

Blue Jones x Female Reader

Squeaky Wheel

Agora

Orestes x Female Reader

When In Rome

#Miguel O’Hara #spiderman 2099 #oscar Isaac #Miguel O’Hara x female reader #moon knight #Marc Spector #Jake lockley #Steven grant #Poe Dameron #across the spider verse #blue Jones #Orestes #Triple Frontier #Santiago Pope Garcia

126 notes · View notes

intoxicated-chan · 11 months

Note

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader

15K notes · View notes

nova-amor · 6 months

Text

𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐨𝐜! 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭(?), 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟓.𝟏𝐤

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 & 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 ��𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 😔

There was a faint ringing in your ears, your eyes straining to count the individual fibers threaded into Peter’s pink bathrobe. There were a few stray strings you resisted the urge to pluck. A faint mystery stain or two embedded into the material that you were sure no amount of Shout spray or Tide detergent could get out.

Had he tried a simple solution of vinegar and Oxy-clean to get the stains out? That always seemed to work on your husband’s clothing; you’d have to relay the information to Mary-Jane next time you saw her. You were sure she had a few household tricks of her own to share too; after being married to a Spider-Man for years, you learn a thing or two about maintaining spandex suits and cleaning up wounds post-missions.

Maybe you should write a book. Yeah, definitely— an instructional booklet detailing the little tips and tricks you had picked up through the years of being married to a superhero. Maybe you could gather a few advisory notes from the other spouses who were willing to share.

You could even get the book published; but what would you name it? “How to Take Care of Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.”? “The Art of Being a Hero’s Wife.”? Or, “The Good Wife’s Guide: Embracing Your Role as a Superhero’s Nurse, Guy-in-the-Chair, Home-maker.”?

No, none of those sound right. You’d have to think about this one.

“Hey!” Peter’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, your blinks slow as you registered what had happened. How long had you spaced out?

“Earth to Mrs. O’Hara!” There was something special about Peter, something unique to this particular Peter variant. Maybe it was his crooked smile or his kind eyes. Or, maybe it was his keen ability to recognize when someone was upset and offer them help without really offering it— a skill that the other Peters you had met didn’t quite have.

“You doing okay?”

Shuffling in your office chair, the leather material squeaking in synchronization with your nervous adjustments. Were you okay? You had gotten enough sleep the night before, you had your morning coffee, you had no deadlines or mission reports to file, and you nor your husband were being attacked by villains. So, you are okay— you have no reason not to be. Right?

“Sorry, yeah, I’m fine,” You reassured Peter, trying your best to not notice the minuscule frown tugging at his lips. You dodged his heavy gaze, glancing over to your black computer monitor. You reached for the mouse, giving the item a slight wiggle to awaken the computer from its state of rest. “You were asking me something, right? A question?”

Peter’s eyes followed your fingers dance across the keyboard, typing in the password to unlock your computer. It was your wedding date. Peter looked back at you, choosing to ignore how you hesitated to press the final numeral key.

“Yeah, you can say no, but would you and Miguel be willing to watch Mayday for a few hours this Sunday?” inquired Peter as he sought out one of the balls at the end of your mini Newton’s cradle. He drew back the metal ball, far enough that once released, the loud smack of the ball knocking against the other pieces drew your attention back to him in annoyance. Peter offered his signature crooked smile, the gesture serving as a good enough apology.

“I don’t know, Pete,” Your cursor hovered over your email box, a recent notification pinging in the corner. It was most likely another email from your therapist— another Peter variant, funny enough. You had skipped out on the last few planned sessions without notice. “You know how much I love Mayday, but I’d have to talk to Miguel first and the house isn’t equipped for a child’s safety. And, I’m not even sure if Miguel can handle being around kids right after the whole… you-know-what situation.”

Peter nodded, “I totally get that, but I already asked a few friends back on my Earth and Jessica and they said no; and, you know I really wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have anyone else to turn to,” Oh, so he was going to play that card. “MJ and I haven’t had a night off from taking care of Mayday in months and I want to surprise MJ with a nice date night this weekend. You’d only be watching Mayday for a few hours, promise, and she’s such a sweet kid—”

Peter was quick to pull his phone out from his pocket, “Like, look at this face,” He shoved his phone screen into your face, showcasing an image of Mayday in a baby’s version of a Spider-Man suit to you. You blinked, the picture of the little girl tugging at your heartstrings— she was a cute kid, a perfect combination of her mother’s features and her father’s personality. “Tell me you wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with this cutie! You’re really gonna say no to that smile?”

You grabbed at Peter’s phone, shamelessly scrolling through the dedicated Mayday photo album that housed thousands of images of his child. You loved her bright green eyes, her rosy cheeks, her toothy grins. You couldn’t deny that the idea of taking care of her wasn’t a good one.

As you passed Peter’s phone back to him, you recognized the look of triumph on his face. “Let me at least talk to Miguel first,” You sighed, the smile on his face stretching into a fat grin. “I’ll let you know by tonight, but I can’t guarantee you that he’ll say yes.”

“Good enough for me!” Peter clapped his hands together. The watch on his wrist began to beep rapidly, a signal that there was a new mission on another Earth.

Peter gave you a sheepish smile as a glitchy orange portal appeared behind him, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Let me know how it goes; see you later!” And, he was off with a quick wave.

The portal closed slowly behind him, the soft hum of the moving universe filling the empty air until it was gone with a mellow whoosh. You turned back to your monitor screen, slinking back into the cushions of your chair. You processed the question over again, your gaze settling on the background image of your computer screen as you mulled over what had just occurred.

It was an image of you and your husband from a few years ago— your arms laced around each other’s waists, large smiles painted across your faces, the two of you clad in all white.

Even the backdrop was a reflection of what a perfect day it had been— the sky cloudless and heaven’s painted a wondrous range of pink, orange, and purple hues, the lake calm and as still as glass beneath your feet.

You could still remember the smell of the sweet air, feel the faint cool breeze on your skin, taste the lingering flavor of your husband’s lips on yours. It had been your wedding day— you two had planned an elopement and held an intimate ceremony on the white sandy beach of Las Coloradas, and then spent the rest of the following week traveling around the northern coast of the Yucatán for your honeymoon.

You had been so happy, so in love, so full of life. Everything was perfect back then. And, if you could reach through the image and teleport back to that time, you would do so in an instant. Without a single moment’s hesitation.

But, your husband hadn’t invented that technology— yet.

“Miguel?” Your knuckles hovered over the closed door of your husband’s office, your feet glued to the wooden hallway floor. You chewed on the inner flesh of your cheek, contemplating whether or not this was an appropriate time to disturb him. But, you had told Peter you would talk with Miguel tonight— and you would rather be damned than let one of your friends down.

“Miguel, I need to ask you a question; can I open the door?” You pressed your ear to the door, craning to hear if there was any noise on the other side. You weren’t even sure if he was home anyway. You had barely seen him all day, only seeing one another in passing in between meetings and mission debriefs. “Miguel, I swear to God—”

“Entra.” You blinked at the sound of his muffled voice. So, he had been home. And, he hadn’t even acknowledged you.

Not wanting to waste another second, you pried open the office door, immediately being greeted by the sight of your husband lounging in his office chair. Your feet were weighed down by lead, unable to bring yourself to step foot into his sacred space. It had been so long since you had been in such close proximity to your husband, not since that fateful night almost a year ago.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to interrupt you,” Whether it was by divine intervention or a sudden power boost in confidence, you mustered up the strength to step foot into the lion’s den. Your eyes glazed over the office space, taking in the area that Miguel had been frequenting every night for the last year.

His office was exactly like you had last seen it: the walls painted a rich, deep shade of taupe and lined with certificates and bookshelves; the couch you two had purchased was still tucked into a far corner with an accompanying side table decorated with an old framed photo of you; his desk centered in the room, littered with papers and computer monitors.

Your gaze finally settled on Miguel. Under any other circumstance, you would have playfully complimented his choice in attire— his signature Spider-Man suit replaced with a loose white t-shirt and Spider-Cat pajama pants you had jokingly purchased him years ago. You couldn’t resist finding him a bit cute in that moment; regardless of the tension between you two, you’d do anything to run your fingers through his shaggy hair and plant a kiss or two on the tops of his cheeks.

You couldn’t resist missing your husband.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare?” Miguel’s voice derailed your train of thought, yanking you back into reality. The reality where your husband couldn’t stand to be around you. “Or, are you going to tell me whatever it is you wanted to ask?”

You fought the urge to flinch, the coldness of Miguel’s tone stinging you. “Peter wanted to know if we could watch Mayday this weekend,” You came out quickly, wanting to get this moment done sooner rather than later. The longer you were in his private space, the more hurt you’d end up getting. “I told him I’d talk to you about it first since I wasn’t sure how’d you feel about it. I promised that I’d give him an answer tonight.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, “Babysit Mayday? You want to watch a baby?”

“Well, yeah,” You answered, slightly taken aback by his question. Everyone knew how much you adored Mayday— you had been glued to Mary-Jane’s side through the entirety of her pregnancy, even being one of the first people allowed into the room after Mayday’s birth. Since Mayday’s arrival, you had been there for the Parker family through every major event in Mayday’s life and they had always welcomed you with open arms in return. Especially after the situation with Miguel.

“You know better than anyone how much I love Mayday,” You added. “And, Peter and MJ have always been good friends to me— to us. The least I— The least we could do is watch Mayday for a few hours for them.”

“When?” Miguel averted his gaze from you, focusing in on one of his many computer screens. You didn’t even have to ask, your gut already knowing exactly what he was looking at. It was a picture of her.

“This weekend. I’ll have to talk and get more details from Peter first and then I’ll be able to tell you what the plan is,” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, attempting to direct your attention to anything other than your husband’s activities. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed, his jaw hardening as he turned his attention back to you. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked sharply.

You nodded, “I’m just asking,” You took a deep breath. “I just know that being around Mayday or any child has been tough for you since… the incident. And, I just want to make sure you’ll be comfortable with it.”

“I said I’m fine with it. And, if that’s all,” Miguel’s mental and emotional walls shot back up, closing you off and preventing you from being able to reach him any further. God, you’d do anything to catch just a glimpse of what was going through his mind.

“Remember to close the door on your way out.”

The rest of your evening was spent tucked in between your bed sheets with a glass of wine and a book. You tried to ignore the gaping hole in your heart, drowning your sorrows away with an expensive bottle of Bordeaux and a fantasy novel you had been recommended by one of your friends.

Yet, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the space next to you. It lacked Miguel’s familiarity and warmth, the mattress cold and devoid of any fragment of his presence. You couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept in the same bed as you, the nights having blurred together as you had spent the majority of them in tears.

“LYLA!” You called out to Miguel’s A.I. assistant, her small figure appearing on Miguel’s nightstand. You set your book down on once used to Miguel’s pillow, downing the rest of your wine before devoting your attention to the A.I. being.

“LYLA, what’s Miguel been up to?” You questioned, the small figure glitching in and out for a brief moment before appearing closer beside you. “I know Miguel put up a privacy shield to prevent me from knowing what he’s been doing; but, is there any way you can give me a hint into his life?”

LYLA tapped her chin with her forefinger, taking a seat on the edge of your book. She crossed one leg over another, “I guess it wouldn’t go against my programming if I told you what he hasn’t been doing.”

You smiled at that. Regardless of whom LYLA was programmed to follow, Miguel had also created her to be independent enough to formulate her thoughts and opinions— a feature you were sure he regretted now and again.

“No, no, it wouldn’t.”

With a flick of her wrist, LYLA displayed a series of images above her— recorded moments of her spent with your husband. The images revolved in a slow scroll, displaying various situations where Miguel had ordered LYLA to project holographic images of the girl that captured his heart a year ago.

“LYLA, this needs to stop,” You whispered to the A.I. figure, flicking through the images and short video clips. Many of them were recreated memories of Miguel spending time with the girl, the sight of his wide smile infecting your heart like a disease.

The most recent image, dated just a few days ago, was of Miguel spending time with a programmed holograph of the girl. He appeared happy, smiling at the figure and laughing at something she had said. Yet, you knew your husband well enough to recognize how the light never met his eyes, those crimson eyes stormy and filled with an unmistakable sadness.

You sighed, sinking back into your pillows. Bringing your hands up to your face, you gripped onto your face, allowing the rush of emotions to wash over you like a tidal wave dragging you out to see. After a moment, you finally let out a deep breath, peeking back down to LYLA.

She seemed just as upset, toying with the edges of the small case on her phone. “It’s getting worse,” She relayed to you, her lips pursed as she moved closer to you. She then glitched to appear atop your shoulder, the faint ghost of her presence lingering by her cheek. She was trying to comfort you, and she couldn’t even touch you. “When he isn’t on missions, he’s cooped up in his office— rewatching the videos he made with her, utilizing the holograph systems to recreate her. But, it isn’t enough for him. I think he’s planning to look to other universes to find her.”

You blinked, craning your neck to the side to get a proper look at LYLA. “He can’t do that, LYLA,” You snapped at her, your tone a bit harsher than you had intended. You were quick to offer an apology, which she returned with a small smile. “It’s just— He knows the dangers of interacting with another version of her. He could destroy her world again, he’d lose her again. It’d destroy him all over again.”

“I know, but you know how Miguel is,” LYLA turned her gaze away from you, looking towards the framed image of you and Miguel on your nightstand. The photo had been taken right before your engagement, before you learned of his identity as Nueva York’s Spider-Man. Before he discovered the multiverse. “Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s hard to get him to not pursue it. He’s so stubborn that way.”

You nodded, the weight of defeat heavy on your shoulders.

“Yeah, I know,” You breathed out. “It’s one of the reasons why I married him.”

“And, here’s her backpack,” Mayday giggled in your arms, her big emerald eyes beaming at you with a toothy grin on her face. She toyed with the strings of your hoodie, wrapping the strings around her chubby fingers before tugging on them. “I packed a ton of diapers and toys and snacks and a change of clothes if she needs them and,”

You turned your attention to Peter, offering him a reassuring smile. “Peter, I think she’s good,” Mayday cooed in agreement. “You’re just going to be gone for a few hours, you didn’t need to pack the entirety of her life away for just a handful of hours.”

“I know, but,” Peter sighed, his shoulders sagging. He reached out to poke Mayday’s rosy cheek, earning an amused giggle in return. He smiled at that. “I’m just nervous, it’s the first time me and MJ are going to be away from her. And, anything can happen. And, I just really want tonight to go well and—”

“Dude,” You interrupted him, cradling Mayday close to your chest with one hand while the other found a place on Peter’s shoulder. You gave it a light squeeze, offering him an empathic smile. “Tonight’s going to go perfectly, Peter, so stop stressing so much. Plus, Mayday is going to have the time of her life with Tía [y/n] and Tío Miguel. Right, mi pequeña araña?” You raised Mayday to your lips, planting a soft kiss on her squishy cheek. Her toothy grin grew impossibly wider, basking in the warmth of your affection.

“Now, don’t you have a date to catch?” You teased, referring to the time on his watch. Peter cursed, summoning a portal back to his universe.

“Call me, text me, email me, I don’t care. If you or Mayday need something, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” Peter pressed a kiss to Mayday’s forehead, his faint stubble tickling her forehead. He then turned to take a step into the portal, pausing for a moment to look back at you and his daughter. “Oh, and another thing—”

“Peter B. Parker, leave my universe right now!” You playfully ordered, extending your pointer finger in the direction of the swirling vortex.

Peter shook his head with a smile, “Yeah yeah, I’m leaving. Love you both!”

And, with a hushed whoosh, the portal vanished— leaving you alone with just Mayday by your side.

“Well,” You tucked your hands under Mayday’s armpits, propping her up into an upright position. “What do you want to do now, May?”

Mayday could only offer you a babbled answer in return.

The next few hours passed in a blur, your time occupied by Mayday and her little shenanigans. You didn’t realize just how difficult it was to manage a Spider-kid; at her current age, she was already starting to shoot organic webs from her wrists and crawl all over the walls like her father.

You spent the majority of your afternoon chasing after her and prying her off the kitchen cabinets, doing your best to entertain her with normal activities like watching kid shows and playing with toys. But, Mayday wasn’t a normal child that could be entertained with such feeble methods.

“Maydayyy,” You whined as Mayday crawled around the living room ceiling. You weren’t even sure how she had managed to get up there in the first place, you had looked away from her for a single second to grab the TV remote and somehow she had ended up swinging back and forth on your chandelier. “Mayday Parker! Don’t make me call your dad!”

“What’s going on?” Miguel’s voice interrupted the moment, capturing both your attention and Mayday’s. The toddler shot a web at Miguel, swinging herself into his arms.

“Mayday’s been off the walls,” You sighed, plopping down to sit on the edge of your coffee table. “I forgot how draining it can be to babysit.”

Miguel adjusted the toddler in his arms, breathing out a soft whistle. His eyes glazed over the current state of the living room— toys littering the floor, the TV playing an episode of some child’s show called Bluey, and a few spilled snacks embedded into the carpet.

“You take a break,” Miguel shrugged, looking back at you. His face was devoid of any expression, yet his eyes were brewing a storm you couldn’t quite decipher. “I’ll take it from here.”

“But, Miguel,” You wanted to put up a protest. You were perfectly capable of watching Mayday. You had been doing so the entirety of the afternoon before he arrived.

Miguel shook his head, craddling Mayday in his strong arms. “It’s alright, [y/n],” Mayday reached up to toy with one of the buttons on Miguel’s shirt. You couldn’t but notice how form-fitting Miguel’s polo shirt was, your eyes raking over the sight of the sleeves straining around his thick biceps. “If you want to help, just get dinner started or something. I’ll take care of Mayday.” He assured you.

Without another word, you left for the kitchen— your heart sinking further into the black hole forming in your chest. You were supposed to be watching Mayday together, taking care of her together. Yet, per usual, Miguel had taken complete control of the situation and shut you out.

As you rummaged through the kitchen in search of ingredients to begin the dinner process, a flood of emotions washed over you. The memories of the last time Miguel had tried to control you coming back.

It had been after she died. When Miguel’s emotions were still high and unpredictable. For a month after her death, Miguel had lashed out at everyone and everything— micromanaging the entirety of the Spider society down to the finest details. Like everyone else, you had been forced to endure Miguel’s terrible attitude with an empathetic face— yet, unlike everyone else who was able to escape Miguel’s short-temper and mood swings after work, you had deal with it at home as well.

One particular evening though, after weeks of walking around on eggshells with your husband around, you had finally snapped at Miguel. The words still rang clear in your head as you recalled them, as if you had witnessed the moment through a third-perspective rather than as yourself.

“She wasn’t even your daughter!” You yelled at your husband, hot tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. Your skin scorching hot, frustration pulsing through you so hard and fast that your hands shook by your sides. After one too many times of your husband lashing out on you, it was time he got dealt the same cards. “You didn’t even want a kid up until you met her.”

“That’s not true.” Miguel bit back, rolling his scarlet red eyes. He was seated at the dining room table, the table acting as a great divider between you two. “I wanted kids— I want kids. But, you waited until the last second to tell me you didn’t want any. And, I wanted you so much, I was willing to put aside the idea of having kids so I could be with you. I sacrificed my dream to be with you.”

“I did not wait until the second, Miguel, I made it clear from the beginning that I didn’t want kids.” You retorted, curling your lip down in disgust. Choosing to ignore his usage of past tense in referral to you, you continued to push through— you needed Miguel to open up. This was the furthest he had done so since her death. “I told you before our engagement, I didn’t want kids. And, you said were okay with it. And, you were okay with is up until a couple of months when you met her. And, now because she’s dead, you want to use my womb as a factory and recreate her? That’s not going to happen.”

“You’re going to change your mind.” Miguel leaned back into his chair. “You’re going to change your mind in five, ten years and its going to be too late. And, you’re going to regret not having kids.”

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes. You were mentally exhausted, “I’m not going to change my mind. And, I’m not going to regret having kids.” You sighed. “Because I choose me. And, you choose me too when you decided to marry me even after I told you I didn’t want kids. And, if you’re having regrets about our marriage, I need to know now.”

Miguel stayed silent. A heavy pause lingering in the air between you.

“You regret our marriage?”

Your hands were wrinkled and covered in soap, the rushing water from the faucet filling the still air. The house was cold and quiet once again since Peter had just picked Mayday up a few moments prior. You had spent the past few minutes after their departure holed up in the kitchen, washing the dishes and pans you had used for dinner.

“Do you need help?” You turned your head in Miguel’s direction, his towering frame hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

You shrugged your shoulders, holding a dripping plate out to him. Miguel was quick to take the item from your hands, grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to dry it off before placing it in the dish rack. You two stood there in heavy silence, your bodies moving in tandem with the assembly line you had formed.

“Miguel,” You broke the silence, Miguel’s hands stilling at the sound of your voice. You continued to wash the dishes, piling them on the side of the sink for him to dry. “What if we had a baby?”

Miguel blinked, taken aback. “¿Un bebé? ¿Desde cuándo querías un bebé?” He inquired, resuming his task of drying the dishes.

“Since I found you out you were re-creating Gabriella with holographs,” You stated, twisting the handle of the faucet to turn the water off. You reached for another kitchen towel to dry your hands off.

“How do you—?”

“LYLA.”

Miguel nodded, finishing the final dish and setting it into a slot along the dish rack to air dry. “[Y/n], I,” Miguel paused, pondering over what words he should say next. He was tongue-tied, unsure of how to go about the situation. “I just miss her so much and,”

“And, I never let you use me to re-create her. So you with the next best alternative,” You stated, clenching the edges of the kitchen counter. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. It’d hurt too much. “And, if re-creating your daughter is going to make you love me again, be healthy and better again— so fucking be it.”

“[Y/n]...”

“Miguel, you want Gabriella back and I’m telling you I’m willing to give her to you.” You sucked in a deep breath, trying to maintain the steadiness in your voice. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t what I want.” He answered.

“Don’t lie to me right now, Miguel,” You hissed. “You've been pushing me away, shutting me out for a year now. Ever since she died, you haven’t been the same and I’m offering you the chance to see her again.”

“Stop,” Miguel snapped at you, the sharp edge of his canines gleaming under the kitchen lights. “We had a good day. Why are you trying to ruin it by bringing this up?”

“Ruin it?” You placed a hand over your heart, a faux gasp of disbelief leaving your lips. “I’m ruining your day?”

“You’re not, I just…” Miguel slinked back from you. “I think we’d better off talking about this later.”

“But when is later good for you, Miguel? When I asked you about her universe, you always said you’d tell me later. When you would leave to go see her, not returning for hours or even days, my questions about where you were or how long you would be there were met with an “I’ll tell you later.” When Gabriella died, I asked you how you said ‘later.’ When our counselor asked how you were feeling, and what you were doing to cope, you said that you needed time to grieve now and let me in later. Later has been months, Miguel,” You exhaled shakily, wiping your rebel tears away with the back of your hand.

You looked up to Miguel, your heart aching at the sight of his frown. “I can’t wait any later, Miguel, I can’t. I’ve been trying to wait on you, I’ve given you space, I’ve given you time to grieve, I’ve given you everything that I have and try to be. Except for one thing. A baby. If giving you a baby will make you love me again, so be it. Let’s not wait for later. Let’s do it right now. Let’s have a baby.”

Miguel hesitated to answer, unsure how to proceed through such murky waters.

“You almost left me for Gabriella because I wouldn’t give you a child. You almost died when she died. And, I’ve stayed by your side through this entire time, supporting you, giving you space,” You reached out to grab at Miguel’s shirt, the fabric wrinkling by your grip. “The last thing I can offer you is to have a baby because I just want to make you happy again. I just want my husband back.”

Miguel’s arms wrapped around your body, holding you close with a tight embrace. You breathed in his scent, the familiar aromas of patchouli and cedar seeping into every fiber of your being, calming your mind and breaths. You relaxed into him; his arms had always been your sanctuary.

“I hate it when you cry, amorcito,” Miguel pressed his nose to the crown of your head, burying his face into your hair. He breathed in your scent, his muscles tensing all around you. It was as if he was scared you were going to disappear from his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” His voice wavered. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like this. I never meant to do this to you— I just didn’t know what to do, what to feel.”

“Miguel,” His name left your lips like a whispered prayer. You craned your neck back to peer up at him, his glossy ruby eyes meeting you.

“Let me speak, mi alma, it’s my turn.” The walls around Miguel’s heart and mind came crashing down, his face contorting into an expression of pain and sorrow. You reached up to cradle the underside of his ear, your thumb passing gently over his jawline in long, soothing strokes.

“I owe you so many apologies. I’ve been such a terrible husband, such a terrible person. Instead of pushing you away, I should have held you closer;” Miguel announced. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “I never meant to make you feel unwanted or unloved. I love you so much, amorcito. Más que nada en el universo.”

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to give up any aspect of your life for me. I know having kids isn’t something you want, and I’m so sorry I made you feel that the only way I’d stay with you is by having a baby,” Miguel continued. “ I became so obsessed with the feeling of being unconditionally loved, unconditionally wanted, that I forgot that I already had someone in my life who already did so. You’re the only important thing in my life. You’re the only one I love and care for. And I promise to never take you for granted, I promise to do better for you.”

Miguel’s promise was spoken through a few whimpers, his eyes brimming with tears. You continued to stroke Miguel’s cheek, reaching up to him by the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Miguel chased after the loving sensation, dipping his head to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

He whimpered against your lips, the kiss salty and sloppy from your tears mixing. The pain in your heart slowly seeped away, being replaced by the intense rush of love you still held for him.

“Miguel,” The sound of his name elicited another tremble from him, his tears slowing. You kissed his cheeks, kissing away his tears and grief. “Te quiero también.”

Miguel clung to you harder, your head returning to its restful spot on his chest. You two stood there for a lifetime, holding onto the torn fabrics of your marriage.

There was still so much for you two to discuss, so many thoughts and emotions to reveal. Yet, at least, you were able to acknowledge the mistakes in your relationship and take the first leap to rebuilding your marriage. And, this time, you’d be able to do it together.

186 notes · View notes

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 11 months

Text

Impatient

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: Miguel needs to see you in his office, immediately.

A/N: First Miguel fic! Pretty sure I have written him a little too soft. But I can't help myself. (Also, I read Spiderman 2099 100 years ago, please forgive me.)

Warnings: hickeys, secret relationship (kinda), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), swearing, this has not been proofread, overuse of italics, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning.

Word Count: 2404

________________________________

It’s always been difficult for you to work when someone’s looking right at you.

Especially, when the person staring was Miguel.

You took a risky glance up from your computer screen to the far side and-

Yeah. Still staring.

Nerves twisted in your stomach as you quickly looked back to your work and swallowed. You tried to type, tried to verify the equation you were meant to be double checking, but your mind was swimming. The numbers and symbols just weren’t adding up to anything no matter how much you willed them to make sense.

“I need to speak with you in my office.” Miguel’s stern voice made you jump and accidentally hit several keys on your keyboard.

“Of course.” You managed to squeak out, the sound of your voice made you want to slam your head against your computer. “I’ll, erm, be right there.”

He stayed standing close, his arms crossed.

You swallowed again and got up quickly when he didn’t move.

Sabrina, your colleague at the desk next to you gave you a worried and apologetic glance. She obviously thought you were in for a bollocking.

You followed Miguel silently as you both exited the room and went to the elevator. You stayed silent as he pushed the button for the highest floor, the one his office was on.

You bit your lip, digging your nails into the skin around your thumb.

It was only when you were both two steps into his office that Miguel looked at you, turning so quickly that he was almost a blur. His hands on your shoulders as he pushed you back into the door.

The little yelp of surprise that started to escape your lips was quickly muffled by his mouth on yours. He grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping them around his hips in one swift motion.

You clutched at his shoulders, the yelp turning into a moan as he slid his tongue into your mouth and pressed his body flush against yours.

“Fuck,” you pulled away to the side just enough to speak, “is this what you wanted to see me about?”

His lips are back on yours in an instant, muffling your question.

You pulled on the hair at the back of his head, just enough to be able to speak. “Migu-”

“Missed you.” He murmured, sinking his head back to your lips before trailing kissed over your jaw.

You gasp, arching your back towards him as dips lower, leaving soft open mouthed kisses along your throat and rocking against you. You can feel his cock, thick and heavy straining against the confines of his trousers.

“You, you could have sent an email.” You lose your train of thought for a second as Miguel nips at your pulse point. “I would have come straight up.”

He makes a hum of disapproval into your neck, already so desperate to feel you. He snakes his hand under your top, pressing against your waist and using it as leverage to move you against him.

His bulge rubs just right over your clit and you bite down a moan.

It’s like something in him snaps at the sound. “Need you, need you so bad.” He growls, pulling you away from the door and to the floor.

He’s everywhere, crowding you in, pulling at your shirt buttons and trousers impatiently. All while kissing you roughly.

You’ve been in this position too many times to know it’s only a short matter of time before he gets so irritated that he’ll either rip the buttons off or claw the material in two.

“Miguel, Miguel,” you soothe, your hands going to his face and making him look at you.

He pauses, breathing hard.

You kiss his lips softly, pulling back when he tries to press against you hard.

He whines, his hands on the floor on either side of your head. You can see his claws digging into the carpet in your peripheral vision.

You kiss him again, just as soft. And he lets you this time, rolling his hips against you ever so gently in a perfect rhythm with your lips.

You pull back, pressing another quick light kiss to the tip of his nose. “You okay?”

He keeps his eyes closed and nods.

You know he’s lying. Something’s upset him, something’s gotten under his skin and set his blood ablaze.

But you also know him. You know he can’t talk about it right now, not when whatever it is is fresh and bleeding.

He’ll talk about it later. Miguel always talks about it later.

You kiss time again, light and sweet before trailing your lips to his neck. While you don’t want to be seen covered in hickeys after talking with the head of the company, no one would dare even mention it to Miguel if they saw a love bite just above his collar.

You undo the top three buttons as you kiss his kiss, moving your lips lower and lower and then biting down hard.

Miguel hisses and clutches at you, pulling you tightly against him and rubbing his aching cock against your thigh.

“Please… need you.” He moans softly at your ear. The tension in his lips is insurmountable, like the smallest action could cause him to shatter.

You nod, kissing his chin then his lips.

He doesn’t pull away quickly. Instead he melts into the kiss, groaning softly, as he swallows your tongue into his mouth. Enjoying your hands running up his chest.

Thankfully (for your rapidly decreasing wardrobe) he unbuttons your shirt carefully, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin like it’s the first time he’s seen it.

He bites at your breast playfully through the material of your bra, gazing up at you and chuckling as you gasp and give him a look.

It’s always good to see him smile, the expression never fails to send a rush of heat to your core.

He undoes your trousers painfully slowly, taking his time in popping the button and pulling the zipper down as he kisses your hip and you wiggle underneath him.

He’s doing it on purpose now, going extra slow because you made him calm down.

“Miguel,” you start but he’s chuckling again.

“Don’t be so impatient.” He mutters against your skin.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and gawk at him. “Me? What about you?” You try to keep your voice stern, but it’s hard not to smile when he’s looking up at you like that. “You’re the one that-”

He loves waiting until you're in the middle of a sentence to act.

Without warning he hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your trousers down to your knees, the force of the motion nearly making you fall completely flat on your back.

You open your mouth to speak but Miguel is grinning like the spider that caught the fly.

“Looks like you're falling for me baby.”

You pretend to hit him. “That’s terrible.”

He laughs, pulling off your shoes and then finishing taking off your trousers. “You love it.”

“I love you, you idiot.” You can’t help but smile. “In spite of your jokes.”

He snickers and leans back down, lavishing your thighs with kisses until he reaches your centre.

You can’t help but moan softly and arch your back off the floor as he presses his face into your clothed pussy. “Fuck.”

He kisses your clit over your panties and nuzzles his nose into the wet patch that has started to leak through. “You love my jokes.” He murmurs, looking up at you, already so close to falling apart, with his large red eyes.

You shake your head. “They’re terrible.”

He grins. “Fair enough.”

Oh so slowly, he slides his finger underneath your underwear, and, for a second you think he’s going to swipe through your folds. But instead he curls his finger towards himself, extending his claw, slicing the material clean apart.

“Miguel!” You chide, without any real heat in it.

“I’m allowed to rip one thing,” he bats his eyes at you, completely juxtaposing his shit eating grin. “Besides I bought you these.”

“I’ll kill you.”

His smile widens, showing the sharp points to his canine teeth, “How about you give me a little death instead?”

“Now that is worse than-” You moan loudly, your head falling back against the carpet as he licks a long, slow stripe through your folds. Ending the action with a swirl around your clit.

You gasp, bucking up against him involuntarily.

“Oh,” he repeats the action, a little faster this time. “Looks like you like my quips actually.”

You huff and gently grab a fistful of his hair, pushing him back to your cunt. “Be quiet.”

He laughs softly but doesn’t talk back, pressing his face back into you and licking slowly, broad stripes with the flat of his tongue. He grabs hold of your ass, canting you upwards ever so slightly so he can fully work you over.

“Fuck, ah-”

He hums smugly as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it gently and then flicking it with his tongue.

“Shitshitshitshitshit,” you can feel yourself getting close already, it was embarrassingly fast how well Miguel knew your body, how quickly he could bring you to the edge and push you over.

You grind against his face as he fucks you with his tongue, lapping up your juices and groaning happily.

It’s only when your back starts arching completely off the floor, when your breathing changes into a high pitch whine that he moves his mouth, focusing completely on your clit. Swirling circles and sucking on it gently before teasing it with the edge of his teeth.

You writhe underneath him, pulling on his hair as he continues his onslaught.

He looks up at you, catching your eyes for a second and it’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him.

You don’t even get the chance to warn him you're about to come. Your orgasm hits you suddenly, flooding your mind and body completely and utterly. Drowning out all other thoughts and senses.

Miguel worths you through it, pulling moan after moan from you, until you fall back on the floor exhausted.

He sits up quickly, the bottom half of his face and neck shining from your release. He’s grinning a little smugly and quickly pulls off his tie and shirt, wiping your come off his skin with the latter.

You barely get the chance to sit up before he’s kissing you again, the action deep and needy. He guides your arms out of your open shirt and undoes your bra, throwing your clothes to the side before kissing your chest.

“Fuck Miguel,” you whine as he takes one nipple in his mouth, his fingers toying with the other. Heat rises to your skin and even though you’ve just come, you still need him so, so badly.

He kisses up to your neck. “Get on your hands and knees.” There’s a softness to his voice, an unspoken please.

You move, doing what he asks instinctively.

There’s a shift and shuffle of material behind you as he kneels and pulls his trousers and boxers down to free his weeping cock.

He places his warm hand on your hip. The grip is strong, solid and comforting as he moves closer to you. The front of his thighs just touching the back of yours.

He pumps himself slowly, teasing himself with the sight of you wet and ready for him.

The carpet bites into your knees, but you don’t care. The anticipation, the warmth in your belly is driving you insane. You lean back a little, offering up yourself for him.

And he graciously accepts.

He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance and so slowly eases in, taking his time like he hadn’t been hard and wanting for long before he came to see you.

You gasp at the stretch, his thickness filling you up so completely and utterly it seems to push the thoughts out of your mind.

“You okay?” He mutters, his voice low and strained as he tries to control himself.

“I’m good!” Your voice goes up embarrassingly high at the end as he bottoms out, brushing deep inside.

“Good.” He breathes in deeply, trying to ground himself and you can feel him pulsing inside of you.

You push back ever so slightly, arching your back, “you can mov-oh!”

He pulls back and snaps his hips back into you, almost dragging himself out completely before slamming back into you.

You cry out as he sets a brutal pace, changing the angle with every thrust until he hears you whine loudly when he hits that special spot.

“There baby? You need it there?” There’s a teasing edge to his voice but warmth as well as he focuses all his energy on fucking you exactley right.

You gasp, unable to fully form words with the way he's ramming the air out of you. You barely manage a “uh, uh, uh,” of confirmation.

Pleasure coils in your stomach, building higher and uncontrollably higher.

He’s pulling your hips back with every thrust, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.

Your knees burn, rubbing raw on the carpet, but you hardly register it with the way he’s making you feel.

“Miguel, I’m,” you whine, not able to get another word out as he picks up his pace. Fucking you even harder, even closer to your peak.

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He leans over your back as he thrusts, kissing your shoulders and reaching his right hand down to rub your clit.

He barely gets a chance to circle it once before to cry out, clamping down on him as a wave of pleasure blooms through you.

His hips stutter as you grip him, your walls pulling his orgasm from him suddenly. He groans as he comes, emptying himself deep within you and thrusting softly as you both come down.

You feel light, boneless and ready to sink into a heap on the floor. Miguel’s firm grip is the only thing that stops you.

He kisses your shoulder softly.

And you sigh, your knees twinge. “One day I won’t get carpet burn after a ‘meeting’.” You mutter and he laughs.

“I love you.” He mutters against your skin softly. “Maybe I’ll get a bed put in here.”

You laugh loudly and he smiles.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @melodygatesauthor @romanarose

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#miguel o’hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #x reader #miguel o’hara x you #x you #miguel o’hara x female reader #x female reader #miguel o’hara x f!reader #x f!reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

1K notes · View notes

miguelswifey04 · 9 months

Note

Miguel x his spidey wife very morning lmao

Art Cred:@jude_devir on Insta

Plis write a Drabble ab this 🙏😭 ur litterally my fav writer atm

miguel o’hara x spidey! wife reader

miguel finds himself in the early morning, dressed in his spider suit and ready to face the day's challenges. as he prepares to leave, his wife, with a gentle pout on her face, clings tightly to his back, refusing to let him go.

you, miguel’s loving wife, bury your face in his back, feeling the warmth radiating from him. the coziness and security of his embrace tempt you to stay just a little longer, urging him to delay his departure. you cling to him, playfully begging for "5 more minutes" while coaxing him with your warmth and affection. your voice is filled with an endearing mix of sweetness and determination.

“just 5 more minutes, please? you’re so warm and comfy," you implore, your voice muffled against his back. miguel chuckles softly, his voice filled with both adoration and a hint of a teasing reluctance. he tries to gently untangle your arms from his torso, aware of his responsibilities awaiting him outside the comfort of your embrace.

“darling, as much as i would love to stay here with you, i really need to go to work," he responds, his voice a blend of warmth and determination. "the city needs me, and i have a responsibility to protect its inhabitants." you let out a playful whine, but your grip on him weakens as you reluctantly release your hold on his back. the reality of his duty sinks in, and while you understand his commitment, a part of you wishes you could keep him by your side a little longer.

“miguel, you're such a hero," you murmur softly, pride and admiration coloring your voice. "i know you have to go, but promise to come back to me safely, okay?" miguel's expression softens, his gaze meeting yours as he places a hand over yours, offering reassurance. "i promise, sweetheart. i’ll always come back to you. you are my anchor, my motivation. you mean the world to me."

in that moment, you realize the depth of miguel’s love for you, his unwavering dedication shining through his words and actions. with a tender kiss and gentle caress, he assures you that no matter the challenges he faces, you will forever be his priority. with a lingering embrace, you grant him the release he needs to fulfill his superhero duties, knowing that when he returns, his warmth and love will be waiting for you, creating an unbreakable bond that empowers both of you to face the challenges that lie ahead.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @emiemiemiii @sabcandoit @astro1bloom @sabcandoit @obi-mom-kenobi

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #lin’s asks #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #spider person #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel o’hara fluff

1K notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 10 months

Text

left my window open, baby

pairing: miguel o’hara x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 1.9k

summary:

Sometimes when Miguel comes through your window, he wants all the control.

Other times, like tonight, he wants something different.

author’s note:

it’s official. i have miguel o’hara brain rot. if you enjoyed this lil fic, please consider leaving a comment or message bc they make my heart happy!!

content warnings:

explicit sexual content, no use of y/n, porn without plot, dom/sub dynamics, switch!miguel (but mostly sub in this), potentially bad spanish translations, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, woman on top position, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, hair pulling, praise kink, orgasm control, pet names, choking, scratching, mentions of fangs/biting, cum play. Please let me know if I've missed any!

You’re in bed reading a book by the glow of the lamp on your nightstand when the window slides open. In any normal situation, you would probably be alarmed, but at this late hour, it could only be one person.

“You ever think about knocking?” You ask, not looking up from your book.

“You ever think about locking your window?” A deep, familiar voice replies. You glance up at the masked figure lurking in the shadows. Miguel steps closer, mask disappearing and revealing a handsome face - chiseled jaw, strong nose, tired red eyes, and a permanent furrow between his brows.

He plants a knee on the mattress, gaze holding you captive as he crawls over your body. Up close, you can see the exhaustion in his features, the tightness in his jaw and shoulders.

“What do you need?” You ask quietly.

“Need to make you feel good,” he murmurs, head dropping to your neck. He inhales deeply, tip of his nose tracing your pulse before his lips follow, slightly chapped but deliciously warm. “Please.”

You find yourself nodding and he lifts himself off of you, pulling back the linens covering your body until his only barrier is a pair of panties and the t-shirt you wear to bed. Miguel fits himself between your legs and the molecules of his suit covering his hands flicker away as he presses them to your thighs, his claws pricking your skin and making you gasp. He slides a finger beneath the elastic of your panties and pulls, slicing through the one side and then the other, the shredded fabric falling apart and leaving you bare.

He lies on his stomach and kisses your inner thighs, sucking and biting the sensitive skin until you’re squirming. A heavy arm settles over your hips, holding you against the bed as he continues to mark you up to his liking.

“Miguel,” you whine, fighting against his hold as his fangs scrape so close to where you desperately need relief, “Stop teasing me.”

He immediately heeds your demand, lapping at your pussy with deep strokes of his tongue from your soaked entrance to your clit. He sucks the sensitive bud between his lips, moaning as he does and the sensation has you digging your hands into his hair. He says something that you can’t quite hear.

“Hmm?” You hum. He lifts his head.

“Más fuerte,” he says. Harder.

Miguel returns his attention to your pussy and you heed his demand, tugging on the soft strands between your fingers. He growls, deep and visceral, the primal sound of it making you clench with want. Like he can sense your need, his tongue dips inside of you, curling against your walls as his nose brushes your clit. The dual sensations have you gasping, pulling desperately as his hair, which only urges him on.

He slides a thick finger inside of you as he sucks on your clit and it sends you toppling over the edge, your legs trying to close against his broad shoulders as you come, clenching desperately around his finger and moaning his name into the mostly dark room.

He continues to lick you through your release, slow and gentle until he feels your body relax again. When your thighs have dropped back to the mattress, his tongue begins to move faster and he slides another finger inside of you, the stretch of it making you gasp.

“Miguel?” You ask, but the man doesn’t answer. His attention remains solely on your pussy as he continues to kiss and lick and bite and suck at the most sensitive parts of you until you’re once more panting and writhing and on the cusp of another orgasm despite the aftershocks of your first not having faded.

“Fuck!” You cry, trying to catch your breath. He removes his fingers and lifts his head to look at you, chin shiny with spit and cum.

“Sabes tan bien,” he moans. You taste so good. He crawls up your body, looking every bit the predator you know him to be. The suit flickers away, his broad muscles rippling beneath tan skin as he settles over you and dips his head to press his lips to yours.

He tastes like you, salty and earthy and the thought makes you moan as you kiss him back. You reach up, pushing at his shoulders until his back hits the mattress and you can straddle his trim waist, sitting just above his cock.

“That was amazing, Miguel. Did you enjoy making me cum?” You ask, rocking your hips over his abs. “You made a mess of me.”

Miguel’s eyes are half-lidded as he nods, his claws digging into your thighs and making you hiss from the pain that intermingles with the pleasure of the friction on your sensitive clit. He licks his lips and you get a glimpse of sharp fangs that make your heart rate skyrocket.

“But I didn’t tell you to make me cum twice…did I? You were greedy,” you tease. You shuffle back on your knees until your pussy is sliding over the thick length of him. He groans, head pressing back against the mattress and his eyes squeezing shut. “Maybe I should be greedy, too.”

“Que?” He asks. What? You lift slightly and grasp his cock to position it at your entrance, sliding down the slightest bit as he gasps. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s not often that Miguel lets you be in control, but sometimes the weight of protecting the multiverse from collapse leads to nights like this where you tease and taunt and praise him until that furrow between his brow relaxes just the slightest bit. You continue to slowly draw him into your body, your thighs shaking with the effort and your palms pressed to his chest for balance. The stretch of him is intense, it always is, but you’re so wet and ready for him that he fits with relative ease.

Once you’re seated on his lap, stuffed so full you can hardly breathe, you reach up to grip Miguel by the chin, fingers digging harshly into his cheeks. “Look at me,” you demand. His red eyes are nearly black, glassy and unfocused as he stares up at you with a look of adoration. “That’s it, baby, watch me take your cock so well, okay?”

He nods his head enthusiastically as you rock your hips, drawing up on your knees before shifting back down. You set a rhythm that has him panting and writhing beneath you, a quick slide up and and down his length with a deep grind of your clit against him that has you seeing stars.

But it’s not your turn for release.

“I want you to be a good boy for me,” you murmur. “I want you to cum for me, want you to fill me up.”

Miguel growls, his feet planting on the mattress for leverage as he starts to meet your downward strokes with upward thrusts that quickly grow erratic. You can feel him pulse inside of you, wet heat flooding you as your hips slow and you stop, holding still as he twitches inside of you and gasps for breath.

“Good boy, Miguel,” you whisper. His lips twitch in what could be a smile if the serious man was capable of such an expression.

When he starts to go soft, you rock your hips and clench your muscles around him. He hisses, mouth dropping open in surprise as you grind on him.

“Told you I would be greedy, too,” you tell him. His eyes widen as he realizes what you mean, what you want from him. He’s genetically enhanced and has the stamina to match, so you know he can take it, but the shock on his face makes you feel powerful. “This time you won’t cum until I do, understand?”

“Yes, sí,” he slurs. You lean back a little, your hands gripping his muscular thighs just above his knees, moving your body over him in a deep and sensual rhythm.

“Look, Miguel,” you command, shifting your weight to one hand so that you can bring the other to where your bodies are joined, your index and middle fingers on either side of his cock as you grind on it. “Look how much you stretch me, baby.”

He lifts his head to look, licking his lips as he watches you move over his cock, the way his length glistens with each pull from your body and how with each push inside, more of his own spend slips from your hole. “So tight, cariño.” Sweetheart.

You smile down at him, leaning forward and placing one palm on his shoulder and the other at the base of his throat, your fingers grazing where his pulse frantically beats. It’s a question, this position, one that he answers by taking your wrist and sliding your hand up higher, until your fingers wrap around his neck. You tighten your grip as you begin to move again, his eyes fluttering shut and a moan echoing through the room.

“So good,” you tell him, “you’re so good, Miguel.”

You’re so close to coming, you can feel the rush of it in your veins as you move faster, harder, slamming your hips to his over and over. He looks up at you with stars in his eyes, the worry and pain that normally clouds them eclipsed for at least a brief moment, and that’s what has you clenching around him and crying out his name as you come undone.

Miguel growls, sitting up and deftly flipping your positions until you land on your back, knees pressed close to your shoulders by his broad frame. His red eyes are sharp again, determined, as he pounds into you with single minded focus. Your nails claw into his back, leaving red tracks in their wake as his name spills from your lips like a prayer.

“I hope you had your fun, mí cosita hermosa,” he says, lips grazing your ear. My pretty little thing. His hips are punishing as they slam into you and he uses you to chase his pleasure. “Whose cunt is this, huh? Tell me.”

“Yours,” you gasp. He chuckles.

“That’s right. Todo mío.” All mine.

He presses deep, his cock pulsing and flooding you with his spend for the second time that evening, his lips pressed to your throat and the threat of his fangs against your pulse. When he’s finished, he sits back on his heels to let your legs fall to the mattress. His softening length slips from your body and he watches your clenching entrance with intense focus.

You can feel his cum dripping from your body and he gathers the mess on two fingers, pressing it back inside of you as you gasp. Finally, he lies back on the mattress beside you and you shift closer, resting your head on his chest.

You lie like that for a while, catching your breath and listening to the beat of his heart. Eventually, he rolls out from beneath you and stands beside the bed, tapping at his watch screen until his suit flickers back into place. You pout over the loss of his gloriously exposed body and he chuckles, leaning over you and kissing you deeply before approaching your window.

“See ya, spider boy,” you say as he lifts it open.

“It’s Spider-Man,” he corrects, mask materializing over his face. “Lock your window, cariño.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go save the universe.”

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #astv #across the spiderverse

399 notes · View notes